


This is punk rock

by Got_Well_Soon



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-16 14:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12344985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Got_Well_Soon/pseuds/Got_Well_Soon
Summary: Punk band bassist Chloe, on tour with bandmates Rachel and Steph, heads for her second-to-last show in summer of 2013.A fun little one-shot inspired by Before The Storm ep1, but not compatible with any canon. Rachel and Chloe and Max, but this isn't amberpricefield.





	1. Chapter 1

The alarm was going off, blaring noise next to her head. Chloe rolled over, picked up her phone. _Get the fuck up,_ read the screen. The alarm meant she had ten minutes before Rachel or Steph would be pounding on her door, fifteen minutes until they were joined by Pisshead’s band manager, and maybe half an hour before the Pissheads themselves were all out there, taunting her.

She silenced the phone, took a deep breath, and took stock. She he could hear the shower running, so he was still there. Inconvenient. At least she wasn’t hung over. She sat up and looked around at a cheap motel room, two piles of clothes the floor, her black leather jacket slung over the lone chair. Time to clear out.

She reluctantly slid out of bed, grabbed a folded towel, and wrapped it around herself. Then she opened the bathroom door, not bothering to knock.

“Good morning,” came the guy’s voice from behind the curtain, entirely too cheerful. He probably had a name, but if he’d told it to her she hadn’t been listening. Yesterday’s news.

“Yeah, hi,” she said. “Listen, I’ve gotta hit the road so…”

“Yup, I’m about done, come on in.”

No. “That’s okay. I’ll wait.” She leaned against the wall, but he seemed to get the message, stepping out of the shower. He was still pretty cute, even without the beer goggles, but she didn’t have time to care. Wordlessly, she hung up her towel and stepped past him into the shower. A quick wash, no time to shave, brush her teeth, out into the room. The guy had dressed and was sitting in the chair fiddling with his phone.

She started throwing on clothes, the usual ripped jeans and tank top, then put on her jacket and boots and walked out the door into mercilessly bright sunlight. The second-floor walkway looked out over the motel’s small central parking lot, where the tour bus was already pulled up, engine running.

Yesterday’s news followed her out.

“So—” he began, but she cut him off.

“Last night was fun. I had a good time, really. But I’ve gotta go.”

“I’d… love to see you again, sometime.”

“Yeah. Totally. I’ll text you next time I’m in town.”

“Um. Okay. See you later, I guess.” It was bullshit and they both knew it. For a moment he looked like he might go for a hug or something, but instead he just gave her a friendly wave and walked off.

Chloe turned, relishing the idea of turning the tables and pounding on Rachel’s door for once. Instead she found Rachel standing directly behind her.

“Beware the love of Chloe Price, boys. It cuts like a knife,” Rachel said, looking amused.

“Who said anything about love? Let’s get out of here.”

Rachel jerked a head toward her room. “Steph’s still getting dressed.” They often shared rooms, sometimes all three of them, to save money. As far as Chloe knew, nothing ever went on between Steph and Rachel, but you could never be sure.

Rachel rested her elbows on the railing, looking out at the generic suburban hellscape beyond the motel. Wide roads, gas stations, bad chain restaurants, discount shoe stores struggling to compete with the Walmart which loomed, inevitably, not far enough away. “He looked nice,” she said. “You think if we do enough shows, someday you’ll find a keeper?”

“Come on, Rachel, don’t do this.”

Rachel’s voice was gentle. “I’m serious.”

“You know I’m just blowing off steam. I don’t even remember that guy’s name. And don’t get all jealous, _you_ dumped _me,_ remember?”

“Not exactly _dumped._ ”

“Whatever.”

Steph chose this moment to emerge from the motel room, looking annoyingly fresh as always. Weeks on the road took its toll on just about everybody, but on Steph the fatigue, if it existed at all, was entirely invisible. She glanced from Chloe to Rachel and grimaced. "Let's roll," she said.

They piled onto the bus with the four Pisshead guys and the manager, and they were on their way. It was several hours to Seattle and they’d have to head straight into sound check when they got there. In the meantime, there wasn’t much to do; everyone was pretty well sick of each other and riding time was quiet. Steph passed the time reading some interminable fourteen-book fantasy epic. Chloe envied her patience. She herself could handle at most 300 pages of guys with swords not doing anything, at the absolute maximum.

Rachel disappeared into her phone, running the band’s social media as always. Diligently posting about last night’s show and how excited they all were for the next one. Were they excited? Maybe if they had a good crowd. They might, in Seattle. Chloe was tired of touring, but also in no hurry to get back to Arcadia Bay and her mom and David and who knows what new shit that would roll her way.

She stared out the window, watching the geography grow more familiar, more recognizably Pacific Northwest. She’d never been to Seattle; it was one place she wouldn’t mind staying an extra night or two. Maybe look up Max. As if that was ever going to happen. How do you find someone who’s gone completely radio silent? She’d have to hire a detective.

And anyway they were off the next morning to Portland, then home. Fantastic. If Frank was still in town she would probably just blow all her meager earnings from the trip on weed, spend the rest of the summer nicely baked. There were worse plans. Then maybe after some time off she and Rachel could patch things up, figure out something that worked. Somehow. The scenery drifted past, and she dozed.

She awoke to Rachel poking her. “Come on, we’re here, time to set up.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m awake,” Chloe grumbled. She stepped out of the bus into downtown Seattle, in front of a small concert hall. Seemed like a cool place, certainly better than any they’d played in a while. She grabbed her bass from the bus’s open cargo bay and walked inside.

It was all fairly routine. Tune the bass, wait for the sound guy to get everything hooked up, test everything, lots of sitting around doing nothing. Grab dinner somewhere nearby, then get backstage before the fans start to show up.

As it turned out they did have a good crowd. Everybody was there for Pisshead, obviously, but the seats were already more than half full when Rachel took the mic and gave her little intro. Chloe found herself scanning the audience, looking for a familiar face. Nothing. Not that she could really see, against the lights. But they played a good set, and were rewarded with some real cheers and applause at the end. As the guys took the stage, she made her way backstage, smiling, and slouched into a metal folding chair to wait for her cue. Pisshead wanted an extra bass for one of their songs, and she’d jumped at the chance to play with them, not thinking through how she’d have to spend most of their set staying sober backstage. Rachel and Steph were free to take off, or get loaded, or drop into the mosh pit incognito. This time, though, Rachel took the chair next to her, idly fingering the frets on her guitar, following Pisshead’s chords. They didn’t talk, they just sat, listening to Pisshead play. It was nice.

When Chloe’s cue came, she headed around to the stage. Now the place was packed and Pisshead was rocking it. She did her thing for four minutes, and was backstage again, finally done for the night.

Rachel was still there, talking to a brunette with her back to Chloe. The brunette looked seriously out of place, girlie sneakers, un-ripped jeans, hoodie and a hipster bag. Rachel was stern, maybe even angry, and she tapped the girl on the chest with a finger, driving home some important point. The girl nodded. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a casual hookup. Chloe sighed to herself. She never really knew what Rachel was up to.

After a brief exchange, Rachel’s eyes moved to Chloe, and the girl turned, revealing blue eyes, freckles, and… no way. No _fucking_ way.

“Hey Chloe.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Um, hi?” Chloe stammered. Max was all grown up and cute as hell and that was going to be a serious problem. “What are you… Rachel set this up, didn’t she?” Chloe glanced over Max’s shoulder to Rachel, who had that unbelievably smug look she got when she was being unbelievably smug. Of course she would do something like this.

They hadn’t been together long when Rachel had thought it would be funny to snatch Chloe’s phone and flip through all her text messages. She’d immediately found the old thread with Max.

“Who’s Max Caulfield? Seems like she really burned you.”

“Give it back!”

“Come on, who is she?” Rachel handed the phone back. “I’m curious.”

“She’s my… she _was_ my best friend. Moved to Seattle right after my dad died.”

“That sucks. And then she just ghosted.”

“Pretty much.”

“What a bitch! Who does that to their best friend?”

“She’s not a—“ Chloe cut herself off. “Can we _not_ do this right now?”

“Aren’t you pissed at her for bailing on you?”

“Yeah I’m fucking pissed! Just leave it alone, alright? Anyway, maybe you only like me because I’m lonely and pissed, and we have Max to thank.”

“Those aren’t the _only_ reasons, Chloe Price. Come here.”

It wasn’t the their last conversation about Max. Rachel hadn’t forgotten. Chloe returned her attention to her erstwhile best friend.

Max was looking up at her, smiling timidly. “Your band is awesome,” she said. Behind her, Rachel was making a shooing gesture. Get out of here. Good idea.

“Uh… let’s go somewhere quieter?” Chloe said.

Max nodded. “Sure, I know a place near here.”

“Done.”

Chloe threw on her jacket and led Max out the back exit, into the cool night air. The tall, tightly-packed buildings of downtown loomed above them. Only a handful pedestrians were still out, either bar-hopping or heading home. Max pointed the way and they walked, side-by-side. “You really like our stuff?” Chloe asked.

Max nodded. “It’s not what I usually listen to but… I can dig it. Especially watching you play. I can’t believe you’re in a band.”

Chloe scowled. “You would have known all about it, if you’d ever texted me back.”

“I know… what a disaster.”

“Disaster is fucking right. Good thing I happened to be in town so you wouldn’t have to go out of your way to see me.”

“Yeah,” Max said, ruefully staring at her shoes, “it is a good thing. I’m _really_ glad to see you.”

Chloe sighed, shaking her head. “After all this time, you’re still Max Caulfield.”

Max was silent.

Chloe frowned. Two minutes in and she was already fucking it up. She changed the subject. “So this is Seattle, huh? Seems okay.”

“Yeah, it’s cool but… I get kinda lonely, it still feels a little out of my league.”

“Please. I’d think you’d be teaching hipster lessons around here by now.”

“As if. I’ve got nothing on you.”

“You call this hipster? This is punk rock, girl. And… where are we going?”

“Ice cream parlor.”

Chloe laughed. “It’s 11 on a Friday night and you’re taking me to an ice cream parlor? That is hella adorable.”

“Well, we can’t get into any bars and this place is open late so… shut up, you’ll like it.”

“Is this where you take all your first dates?”

Max shrugged. “Could be. I guess we’re one for one.”

“Um. What was Rachel hassling you about back there, anyway?”

“She wanted me to promise not to abandon you again.”

“What, really? Thanks, _mom._ ”

Max giggled. “She really cares about you. It’s sweet.”

“So… what did you—”

“I promised, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

They arrived at the ice cream shop. In Chloe’s imagination, an ice cream parlor was lit up like a clown factory and packed with squealing kids, but this was something else entirely. Hip wood decor, calmly lit, with secluded booths where you could gorge yourself on artisanal chilled dairy products. All for only three times the price of the kid stuff. Good thing Max was buying.

Chloe picked a booth while Max went up to the counter; she returned with the largest sundae Chloe had ever seen. Two split bananas, six scoops of ice cream, whipped cream, hot fudge, caramel, nuts, and three cherries on top. She stared in wide-eyed admiration as Max carefully set it down, taking the seat opposite and handing her a spoon. “They said it’s for a family to share. I told them we’re a family.”

Chloe grinned and dug in greedily. “Welcome to the family, Max Price.”

Max laughed. “In your dreams, Chloe Caulfield.”

It felt like no time had passed. Except for the part where they weren’t awkward kids anymore. Or, less awkward, anyway. The sundae was a formidable challenge, and Max tapped out first. Chloe finally ran out of room with half a banana and about one scoop worth of melted ice cream lying desolately at the bottom of the bowl, flavors mixing into an unappealing brown goop.

The place closed at midnight, so they again found themselves on the sidewalk. “I think there’s a coffee shop that might still be open,” Max said, uncertainly.

“Screw that. Give me the downtown tour.”

“Okay.” They started walking again. “It’s usually so crowded here… this is nice and quiet.”

Max led her up and down and around, pointing out the occasional landmark, but Chloe didn’t really pay attention. She mostly just enjoyed the fresh air and catching up with Max. Eventually they ended up sitting on a bench on a hill, with a clear view of the city lights.

Max pulled her hood up and hugged herself, sliding up against Chloe on the bench. “This hoodie’s not very warm,” she said.

Chloe put an arm around her and pulled her tight against her side, and Max leaned her head on her shoulder, gratefully cuddling. Rachel had done exactly the same thing, years ago, but she had been trying to hide from a fucked-up family and a fucked-up school in a fucked-up town. Max was just cold.

“Thanks,” Max said.

“Any time you need a tattooed hottie to keep you warm, let me know.” Chloe thought she felt Max smile.

“Rachel seems pretty cool.”

“Yeah. She really saved me, after you left.”

“I’m glad. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“Things got kinda fucked up between us, though. We’re friends but… I don’t know.”

“What are you gonna do when you get back to Arcadia Bay?”

“Dude, I don’t fuckin’ know. I just wanted to get out of that town. Rachel and I were going to move to L.A. together. That’s not gonna happen.”

“Oh.” Max was quiet for bit, then she yawned. “This is making me sleepy. I guess I should head home, but… you’re leaving for Portland tomorrow, right?”

Chloe nodded. “Yeah, and now I’m super bummed about it too. Don’t go home yet, just stay with me tonight.”

“Okay. And actually… school doesn’t start for a few weeks. What if I came with you? Do you have any extra seats on the bus?”

“Lots. Although if we didn’t, you would totally fit on my lap.”

Max chuckled. “Too bad. Do you think your mom would mind if I stayed over for a while?”

“Do I care if she minds? Step-douche will absolutely mind, but fuck him.”

Max shifted, pulling in a little closer. “Good. I’m not gonna lose you again.”

 

* * *

 

Aboard the tour bus the next morning, Chloe gave Max the window seat, where she promptly leaned against the glass and nodded off. Chloe’s phone buzzed. A message from Rachel, who was sitting across the aisle from her.

**Rachel** : Score!!!

**Chloe** : get ur mind out of the gutter

**Chloe** : just friends

**Rachel** : For now. She’s cute af and obviously crushing on you.

**Chloe** : bs

**Chloe** : ur just jel

**Rachel** : I’m not. You should at least thank me.

**Chloe is typing…**  
**…**

**Chloe** : Thank you, Rachel.

**Rachel is typing…  
…  
…  
…  
…**

**Chloe** : ?

**Rachel** : nvm. love u


End file.
